Inn Love
by Joy Youngblood
Summary: Bella's father is the wealthy owner of the Swanson Hotel chain. When relocated to the hotel in Seattle, worlds collide when a no-name band and a hot movie star checks in. Songfic, AH/OOC, ExB. On hiatus.
1. For The Seventh Time

**A/N: **For Emma. All Human, rated T - This will not change. Warning: **this is a songfic. **See bottom A/N for details.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any aspect of the _Twilight _Saga; all inclusive material copyright to Stephenie Meyer. Character persona, settings and plot line copyright to me.

**Summary: **Bella, the heiress to the Swanson hotel chain, moves into the penthouse suite of the Washington State's Swanson hotel. A no-name band checks in, and Bella has the _'keen eye' _for the lead guitarist, AKA the Sex God. Enter Jacob Black; famous movie star and hottie of the month. AH/OOC

* * *

**Inn Love**

**Chapter 1: **For The Seventh Time

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**Thursday, May 21st  
Swanson Hotel  
****2:21 PM**

"This," Victoria drawled enthusiastically, "is your room."

I peered inside the foyer, the smell of chemical cleaners and citrus candles invading my nostrils. Involuntarily, I cringed away from the unfamiliar smell. I'd never been in a hotel that actually lit candles for you before you arrived, but I guess there's a first for everything. Right?

"Now I know it's different from the other rooms you've been in," Victoria defended gently, stepping into the large, open penthouse, "But it's my personal favorite. I think you might like it, if you give it a chance."

Stifling my scoff, I swallowed thickly and plastered my most convincing smile on my face. Granted, it was tight and feeble, but it seemed to appease Victoria. She grinned and walked further into the room, rounding a corner and vanishing from my line of sight. Unwillingly, I stepped into the room after her and shut the door behind me.

The walls were a dark brown, with sections of medium beige here and there. My sneakers scuffed against the waxed tile as I trudged further into the penthouse; where I would be living for the next three months. As I walked through the foyer, I noted the bathroom to my right and the kitchen/bar entrance on my left. The bar, I noticed, had a mini fridge, microwave, and modern counters and stools on the outside. Scratch the earlier, '_unfamiliar' _comment. I feel like I'd never left my old penthouse, to be honest. Victoria was wrong when she said that it was different; the layout, the colors, the furniture; it was all the _exact same. _Well, I least I already knew my way around the place.

I walked past the bathroom and kitchen and found myself standing along the side of a living room-type area, to be the looks of it. The lounging chairs, the couch and the end tables were positioned perfectly around a foot-high oak coffee table. A higher dining table stood off to the side with four chairs surrounding. A flat screen TV was seated atop a stand—a matching stand, actually: it belonged with the coffee table in a set, obviously. Lamps were turned on in the room, yet the area remained dim-lighted. Good. I'm not a fan of bright things in-doors. If I wanted something bright, I'd walk outside into the sun. Soak up some vitamin D while I'm burning my retina.

A flash of Victoria's fiery red hair caught the corner of my eye and I turned toward the entrance to the bedroom. _No way… _I stalked across the living room, my eyes narrowing at the wide-open door frame. As I walked through the threshold, my heart sank and my suspicions were proved correct. The layout, the furniture, the colors of the room… were the _exact same as my old room_. What a let-down. A part of me was hoping for something different; some kind of change, despite the fact that moving every year is change enough for most people. For me, it's like I'm changing the people I'm around and the setting outside: my home is always the same; the top-floor penthouse of my father's hotel.

A penthouse that, quite boringly, is _exactly _the same in every hotel.

The bed was off to the right of the entrance to the room. I walked through the passage to my left and found myself in the hallway with two surrounding bathrooms: a women's bathroom and a men's. I always used the shower in the men's bathroom, as the women's only comes with a bathtub. I didn't mind; so long as the shower was sanitized before I used it. The one thing I hate is showering--naked, no less—in someone else's germs.

The bellhop came bouncing in the room then. He was wearing the silliest hat, with a matching brown outfit. I stifled my laugh as he made a quick job of carefully dropping my luggage on the bed and dashing out of the room faster than I could say 'hello'.

Shrugging, I turned back to the bathrooms. Victoria suddenly popped up right in front of me, cell phone in one hand, blackberry in another. I asked her why she had two cell phones one day and she had been reluctant to answer me.

"Well," she had said, chewing and swallowing her Cheerios faster than I'd ever seen, "One's my planner, really. It's like an electronic organizer, except more efficient. My cell phone is for making important phone calls."

"Well why don't you just use you Blackberry for making phone calls, too?" I'd asked, not understanding the point in wasting money paying for two phones when one person only needs one cell.

"Bella," She sighed exasperatedly, closing her eyes briefly. Her eyes snapped open then, "I'm your agent slash manager. I need two separate things so I can multitask. You would understand if you were the manager slash publicist slash agent for a multi-billion dollar heiress to a well known and respected hotel chain," and without another word, she went back to devouring her cereal.

I hate it when she refers to me as that. It makes me sound like the next Paris Hilton, which I'm not.

"Alright," Victoria sighed from somewhere in the living room. I walked out to find her walking slowly to the door. She gripped the handle, and smiled genuinely at me. "Just remember, I'm always here—"

"—If I need to talk to someone, yeah. I know. Thanks, Victoria." I bit my lip, knowing she wasn't one for 'thank you's'. She's the most unemotional person I'd ever met in my entire life, honestly. She avoids mushy business at all cost: she doesn't have a boyfriend or a family. Actually, she does have a family: me. She's been there for me ever since I was born, when my mom died.

She glared at me mockingly before smiling once more and leaving me to get settled. I knew the routine. Unpack, get organized, go downstairs and await further instructions from Vic. Yeah—I'd done this before, can you tell?

I trudged back into my new bedroom and huffed. Why did every single penthouse have to be the exact same? And why couldn't I move into a different room for some change? God.

Did I mention that my dad, Charles Swan, owns the Swanson hotel chain? A hotel chain that is five-star, well known and recommended all across North America? I would know; I'd been to seven different hotels, each located in seven different States.

As I tossed my clothes and toiletries on the large, king size bed gently, I came across something that I knew for a fact that Victoria had stuffed in my bag last minute.

I flipped open my cell phone, remembering the promise I made to Peyton, my friend from the last state I'd lived in. This is one of the downsides of moving every year; you leave behind the people you just got used to.

I pressed her speed dial. Peyton answered on the third ring.

"Peyton Campbell," She greeted, perky and joyful as normal.

"Who answers their phone like that anymore?" I teased. She squealed, so much that I had to hold the phone away from my ear while her high-pitched screams echoed through the receiver.

"Oh my god! I didn't think you'd call for, like, a few days at least! Oh, God Bella! I miss you so much. When are you going to come back to visit us little people?" Flashes of Peyton and I hanging out and going to the near-by movie theatre ran through my mind. I sighed, my joy quickly deflating.

"I just left yesterday and you're already talking about me visiting?" I teased, but even I knew my voice was more hallow, empty than before. Peyton noticed it, too.

"Bella…" she moaned sadly, "This sucks. Why did you have to leave?"

"Good question." I scoffed; my father was not a very nice man, that's for sure. This is the seventh place I've been so far.

"Can you at least come back in the summer?" Peyton asked, hope lacing her voice. I smiled.

"I think I can. It's more than a month away, that's plenty of time for me to finish off school and do whatever else, Victoria wants me to. That's perfect."

I could hear the smile in her voice, "Aw, this is going to be great! We should go on a road trip, the two of us! Ugh, hang on for a sec Bells." Shuffling, scratching and muffled voices rang through the line. I was about to ask what was going on when Peyton came back, "I sent you a photo of me. Well, Cory swiped my phone from me and sent one to you, but one was sent to you nonetheless. We haveto go, because we're actually skipping class right now…" Cory was Peyton's boyfriend. I remember meeting him: he was quite the laugh to be around. I suggested being a comedian to him, and he said he likes to joke around purely for fun. Whatever. I still thought he should be a comedian.

"Okay," I laughed, "I'll talk to you later."

"Bye!" an audible click sounded, leaving me with the annoying beeping noise that sounds when you're line has been disconnected.

"Bye," I whispered to no one, breaking the eerie silence in the room. Beeping then filled the silence, and I looked down to my phone to see that I had a new message.

I opened it, and was immediately greeted by the smiling face of my best friend, Peyton Campbell. Peyton looked the exact same from when I left... yesterday. Her hair was naturally a straight, dark brown, but she dyed it a couple of months ago. Now, she had many blond highlights on her top layer of hair. She was looking up at the camera and smiling, and I remembered taking that photo when She and I were together one night a few weeks ago. She also took a photo of me with the camera on her phone... She must have deleted it.

Right then, I got a text. I flipped my phone open again, the photo of me I had been thinking about staring me in the face. Maybe she didn't delete it. Huh.

I smiled, knowing full well that it was Peyton; she doesn't forget stuff like that. She's by far the best friend I've had from all my times of moving across America. I looked around the room quickly, finding no interest in unpacking the rest of my things. Instead, I decided to go downstairs and meet the staff that I would be around for the next few months.

_Why am I here? _I wondered as I walked down the hallway to the elevator. The hallway was quite short, as the top floor of the hotel--my floor--was divided into two penthouses. The other penthouse, as far as I know, was empty and unoccupied for the time being. I had no problem with that; I preferred to be alone anyways. I knew the answer to my own question, sadly: I was here because my father believes that if I go to live in a different hotel every year, it is good publicity for the hotel. I remembered the first time I was told I had to move, when I was ten, like it was yesterday--

_"But dad," I whined. I probably shouldn't whine. Dad doesn't like that, and I always get in trouble. Oh well._

_"Isabella, you know you are supposed to listen to whatever Victoria tells you to do," My dad replied sternly, lecturing me again. Ugh. Parents._

_"But DAD! I don't wanna move. I like it here," Washington State. I grew up here. I never went to school, sadly: instead I was taught by a private tutor every weekday. So I didn't have many friends, but I liked the staff of the hotel! They were my friends. I mentioned this to dad._

_"Bella," Victoria sighed, empathetical, "The staff here are of old age. They are going to be retiring in a few years anyways, and you'll never see them again." So? Why couldn't I stay here for the remainder of the years they're here?_

_Before I had a chance to ask that, Dad jumped on the opportunity, "Bella, you are going to California, and that is that. No more arguments." I opened my mouth to whine, like he doesn't like me to do, when he shushed me and scolded, "Quiet, now: you're going on that plane with Victoria whether you like it or not. Now, stop stalling with your whines and go." See. I told you he didn't like that._

_And so, without another argument, I boarded the plane to California with Victoria. She smiled encouragingly at me, but I ignored her. I lived in Washington my whole life! It wasn't fair that I had to leave. Now, I was going to California. _

_Maybe California will be better._

_Maybe not._

It wasn't. Any better, I mean: California sucked, apart from the sunny, warm days and wind smelling of the salty ocean. I continued to be tutored, for a year. Then I got relocated when I was eleven to Alaska. Alaska! Really. I hated my dad for that. I didn't make any friends, apart from hotel staff again, but still.

I entered the elevator, which was empty as per usual. When I leaned over slightly to press the lobby button, something sharp jabbed into my upper thigh. Instinctively, I huffed out in pain and grabbed the offending object. To my surprise, it wasn't something on the outside... it was in my pocket. I lifted it out, and smiled when I realized it was my iPod.

As the elevator rode down the twenty-five stories to the lobby painfully slowly, I turned on the iPod and hit 'play'.

A recording of Peyton and I singing a song that Peyton wrote rang through.

We both started:

_Hey! Hey! Hey!_

_La la la la la_

_Hey! Hey! Hey!_

_La la la la la _

Peyton picked up, with her astounding smooth voice,

_You come from here, I come from there,_

I exited the elevator as it opened to the lobby while my voice picked up the next line--

_You rock out in your room, I rock a world premiere._

I walked out into the nearly empty hallway while we both sang--

_We're more alike than anybody could ever tell (Ever tell)_

I continued--

_Friday we're cool, Monday we're freaks, _

Peyton began--

_Sometimes we rule, sometimes we can't even speak,_

I took over--

_But we can get up and let loose and LOL (LOL)_

Peyton--

_It may seem cliche, for me to wanna say, that you're not alone (That you're not alone)_

My voice echoed through my earphones as I trudeged toward the couch in the middle of the lobby and plopped down--

_And you can call me uncool but it's a simple fact, I got your back! (yeah, yeah, yeah!)_

We both sang in perfect harmony together--

_'Cause we're one! In the same,_

_We're anything but ordinary,_

_One! In the same,_

_I think we're almost legandary!_

_You and me, the perfect team,_

_chasing down the dream--_

_we're one and the same!_

_Hey! hey! Hey!_

_La la la la la_

I scanned the lobby, noting the few staff members lurking about as my voice took over again--

_I'm kinda like you, you're kinda like me,_

Peyton--

_When we write the sang song in a different key,_

Together--

_It's got a rhythm you and me can get along (Get along)_

Peyton--

_It may seem cliche, for me to wanna say, that you're not alone_

_(here I go again)_

Me--

_And you call me uncool but it's a simple fact, I still got your back! Yeah!_

Together--

_'Cause we're one! In the same,_

_We're anything but ordinary,_

_One! In the same,_

_I think we're almost legendary,_

_You and me, the perfect team,_

_chasing down the dream,_

_We're one and the same!_

... _'Cause we're one! and the same,_

_we're anything but ordinary,_

_One! In the same,_

_We're so good, more than momentary!_

_Cause we're one, in the same--_

_(Yeah, yeah, yeah yeah yeah)_

_Cause we're one!_

_(I think we're almost legendary)_

_We're anything but ordinary!_

_You and me, the perfect team,_

_chasing down the dream, oh,_

_You and me the perfect team, _

_shaking up the scene,_

_we're one and the same!_

_Hey! hey! hey!_

_La la la la la_

_hey! Hey! Hey!_

A large bellhop--the same one from my room, earlier--appeared in front of me as the song came to a close. I shut off my iPod and hesitantly eyed him.

"Can I..." Scream and run, because you're freaking me out? Ask if you've been charged with harrassment before? "Help you?"

he smiled. Whoa, that's creepy. It's like his mouth spreads as wide as it would go, but his cheeks don't move. Like, at all. Creepy, indeed. "Actually, Miss Swan, it should be I who is helping you, no?"

At least he doesn't have a funny accent.

I smiled back tentatively. I suppose that was his sad, feeble attempt at a joke, right? Oh. Uh...

"I'm Bella," I shoved my hand between, scooting to the edge of the couch so he could reach it without having to lean over me. He grabbed my hand and shook it excitedly. I noticed how small my hand was compared to his. Man hands. Huh.

"Crowley. Tyler Crowley." _Bond, James Bond, _I repeated in my head. Internally, I laughed. I had been around so many people trying to please me unsuccessfully that I knew how to plaster on a convincing, composed face and not show how I truly feel. like now: I didn't let one giggle escape. No matter how funny it was.

"Bella! C'mon! We gotta go!" Victoria called from the doorway of the hotel entrance. I looked up at her, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion, then smoothing and relaxing in comprehension. I wondered, at first, where we had to go, but then it dawned on me: I don't care. As long as I get away from James Bond over here, I will be a happy person.

"I'll... ah..." Never talk to you again cause you creep me out with your excessive happiness? Shove a pencil up your arse to make you grumpy for once? "Talk to you later," I murmured to Tyler, making quick of standing and walking briskly over to Victoria. She laughed silently, understanding--to a degree--my predicament. She would never fully understand, because she never has staff members--employees--of her father waiting for her to yell 'jump', just so they could reply, 'How high?'

Once we were outside, I realized how completely dull and gross everything was here. We were five minutes away from the centre of Seattle, and everything was... green. very, very green. It was 15 degrees outside: my favorite temperature. It wasn't too warm, but wasn't too cold either. Just perfect.

Victoria's snickering brought me out of my thoughts. As we walked East of the hotel down the sidewalk, I turned to her and smiled along, "What? What are you laughing at?"

"You're so easy to read. I could tell that you were desperate for an escape, and clearly thought that boy was slightly insane, so I thought it would be a perfect time to take you to the interview." She said absentmindedly while flipping through files on her little blackberry. I squinted against the sun that was peering through the clouds, the sky a nice baby blue. Again--perfect weather for someone like me. Although, it was very different from the weather in Arizona; where I lived yesterday. Where I met Peyton. Where Peyton still is.

I sighed. _I hate my life. _Then another thought occurred to me, as I repeated what Victoria had just said through my mind.

"What interview?"

She knew I wouldn't like this. I could see it in her eyes as she looked up from her Blackberry: the guilt, the empathy. I groaned. I knew what it was about before she even spoke.

"We have to get you transferred to a different tutor as soon as possible. You're seventeen, Bella: you're about to go into your senior year of... home-school/on-set tutoring. It's major, and you need to pass all your courses to get to your senior year. I am going to make sure that happens," she spoke with confidence, and pride: we both knew she was going to make it happen, because she never _doesn't _make it happen. She a;ways gets her job done. I'd been assured hundreds of times that for her, taking care of me is not a job, per se, but a pleasure. She thinks of me and my father as family, as we do her.

We walked on for a couple more blocks before we were met by a metal fence, higher than me. Attached to the fence was a yellow, metal sign that read--

'FILMING IN PROGRESS. PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB.'

Under that was a phone number for the production office. Here. In Seattle.

"What the hell is this?"

Victoria sighed: this time it was a sigh of exasperation, "Bella, your tutor for the next year will be a tutor that is already working for a movie production. He's tutoring a minor on the set: a boy the same age as you," her cell phone--not the Blackberry, mind you--rang, interrupting her little explanation of insanity, "And if we get accepted by this tutor, you are to come to this set everyday to be tutored by the tutor. Understand?" I nodded, still completely confused. She sighed again and turned away from me, answering her phone with a rough, "Yeah?"

Wordlessly, I turned back to the metal fence. I looked through the metal links and saw many_, _many people scurrying around the large area, setting things up and tearing things down. I looked closer and saw, in black ink, something written on one of the large pieces of set that a crew member was carrying.

Scrawled over the piece of set was--

'DEATH AND DARKNESS - A1, CB

I didn't have a hope in the Universe of understanding what the letters and numbers combined meant. I did know, though, that _Death and Darkness _was one of the most hyped-up, anticipated horror movie events of the year. It's supposed to be a two-and-a-half hour long film with gore, screams and fear. Not my kind of film, to be honest.

Crew members--whom were outfitted with a ratty white t-shirt and dirty jeans, accessorized with a head-set walkie-talkie and other electrical equipment--continued moving large things about, walking quickly over here, then there, then back again, and then finally, disappearing from sight.

"Okay," Victoria huffed, suddenly beside me, "Ready for the interview with the tutor?"

Nope. Not one bit.

"Yeah," I answered instead, "Let's go."

* * *

**_Death and Darkness _Set  
3:35 PM**

"Crap," Victoria muttered as her phone rang. Again. "I'll be right back." She stood and answered the phone with a professional, "Victoria Grey," whilst walking quickly from the room.

We'd been sitting here, in the tutor's waiting room, for five minutes so far. Every two minutes, someone else calls Victoria. How is it even possible that someone be called so many times? What is she talking to them about?

We had been led to a large, modern trailer of sorts by a crew member. He led us straight to the door and left us there. When we went in, I was surprised to see only half the trailer was available to be in at a time: there was a wall right smack in the middle of it, separating a teeny tiny waiting room from a--presumably--large working or office area. I had to give whoever came up with the design credit--it was clever. Very, very clever.

Victoria walked back into the trailer then, all huffy and irritated. I could understand that. I've got tons of friends from seven different states who expect me to contact them, when it's harder than one could expect: first of all, I don't have their numbers. Second, they were the type of friends that used me for my wealth and potential fame. That's why I only call the friends that care.

And sadly, out of all seven states that I'd been to, the only friend I had found that actually cared was Peyton. Peyton from Phoenix, Arizona.

That's all.

Instead of being all sad an pissy about it, though, I found happiness in misery. I had a shit load of fun with Peyton, and expect to have more fun with her this summer: because my dad is... well, Charles Swan, and because my 'caretaker,' AKA Victoria is... well, one of the most famous managers/agents/publicists in North America. They both had serious connections, which led to the recording of the song Peyton wrote.

The song I was listening to earlier today in the hotel lobby.

Before James Bond came and creeped me out.

"Isabella?" I looked up from the dark, carpeted floor of the trailer to see a young, mid-twenties man standing in the door frame to the working/office area of the trailer. He smiled when we made eye contact, "I'm Jamie. Would you like to come in here, and we can discuss some things?"

God, he was too nice.

I felt bad being all prissy and upset in his presence. Why was I even upset? Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. My dad made me leave my home--for the seventh time in my life--and my only true friend. Where did he make me go? Oh, yeah. Washington.

The same hotel that I lived in for the first ten years of my life.

Except, for the first ten years of my life, I just lived in an ordinary suite with Victoria.

Oh, how times have changed. For instance--I don't live with Vic anymore. I don't live with anyone in my large penthouse: which, at times, can be a bit unnerving, but it's nothing I can't handle.

Victoria stood and followed Jamie back into the working/office area. I followed obediently, like a puppy with an invisible leash. Great.

"Have a seat, Miss Swan. Miss Grey." We did as we were told. In the corner of the room, a circular table sat with three chairs around it. A mini kitchen was along with side, complete with a mini-fridge and microwave: similar to mine in my penthouse. Victoria and I sat opposite Jamie with a large, furnished dark desk in the middle: a nice black Apple Mac Book sat off to the side while piles and piles of paperwork occupied the center of the desk.

"Now, Isabella, can you tell me a little about your previous tutors? I hear from Victoria that you've had many," Jamie asked politely, flipping through some papers until he found the ones he was looking for. He looked up at me, then, and clicked his pen while smiling patiently.

That's when I clued in that I was supposed to answer his question.

"Uh..." smooth, just smooth, "I've had seven different tutors, actually, the first one was..." crap, crap, crap! Think back to seven years ago... C'mon, you know his name... for God's sake, he was your tutor for ten years! How can you not remember his name--

"Hey," A husky voice greeted behind me. I heard the door to the working/office area open and close, and I felt, rather than heard, the husky-voice boy's presence behind me. "Sorry I'm late."

I kept my eyes forward, and Jamie nodded to the boy. "Welcome, Jacob. We were just interviewing Isabella, here--"

"Bella," I corrected, stealing a side glance at Victoria. She was smirking, her eyes glued straight ahead. At that moment, I knew that she knew something I didn't.

Well, I didn't have to wait long to find out.

"I suppose introductions are in order," Jamie mused, smiling again--what's with all the smiling!?--and I turned to see who had joined our little interview.

"Bella, this is Jacob," Jamie began. My mouth fell open in shock: I was star-struck by this guy, and how truly gorgeous he was. He smiled, and my heart melted into a pile of goo. He held his hand out, and I shook it numbly. I was shaking hands with a famous movie star. Oh. My. God. "Jacob Black. Jacob, this is Bella. She might be joining our tutoring sessions."

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**A/N: **ExB romance. Eventually. This is not a JacobxBella romance.

- This is a songfic. Just like this chapter, our characters will be singing and playing instruments in future chapters.

- The song that Peyton supposedly 'wrote' and Bella and Peyton recorded together is 'One and the Same' by Demi Lovato and Selena Gomez. I have no clue who wrote it, but this is an extra disclaimer: I do not claim that I wrote that song, or that I own it in any way. Singing credits go to Selena Gomez and Demi Lovato.

- The photo of Peyton that Peyton sent Bella via cell phone is on my profile.

- The photo of Bella that Peyton sent Bella via text is on my profile.

- Photos of Bella's penthouse is on my profile.

- I own Peyton. Don't use her without my permission.

- This story is a drama/humor/romance. Nothing terrible, bloody gore, or mature (i.e., Lemons, Limes, Smuts) will occur in future chapters.

Reviewing is unnecessary. If you want to, by all means--go ahead.

- Joy


	2. Famous Stranger

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any aspect of the _Twilight _Saga; all inclusive material copyright to Stephenie Meyer. Character persona, settings and plot line copyright to me. Songs featured in this chapter, such as: _Ultraviolet _by the Stiff Dylans, _All You Did Was Save My Life _by Our Lady Peace, and _Misery Business _by Paramore belong to respective owners. I do not own the music or lyrics, nor do I make that claim.

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**Chapter 2: **Famous Stranger

**

* * *

**

**Thursday, May 21st  
_Death and Darkness _set  
3:40 PM**

"Alright," Jamie sighed, then smiled, "If I can speak with Victoria privately, I'm sure we can come to some kind of agreement."

I nodded, my adrenaline and nerves still on their high from sitting mere inches away from a famous, extremely attractive movie star. Without another word, Jacob and I walked out of the working/office area and into the waiting room. The door shut with a seemingly loud 'click' before I realized that we were alone for the first time in... forever.

"So," Jacob drawled, taking a seat in the waiting room chairs. I followed his lead, taking the seat beside him. "It's good that you might be joining Jamie and me in the tutoring sessions."

"It is?" I asked quietly, disbelieving. Why would that be a good thing? If anything, I feel I'm intruding on their private sessions. Wouldn't most famous people be opposed to 'fans' joining in their lives in anyway? Jacob didn't seem to think so.

"Yeah," He shrugged, "It would be nice to have some company while trying to learn stuff. It's more fun that way." He smiled crookedly at me, giving me a side glance. I forced a smile.

"Right," I muttered, unnassured: learning had never been fun for me, and I never expected it to be. Time for a change in topic. "So... you're a big-time Hollywood actor, eh?" Wow. I think that was the stupidest thing I'd ever said. _No shit he's a Hollywood actor, assface._

He laughed, "Oh, it's not as glamorous as everyone assumes it to be," he must have noticed my expression, because he quickly explained-- "I mean, to every dream, there is a touch of reality." I quirked my eyebrow at him; it was beginning to be a bit annoying, talking to him: he seemed very cryptic.

"How do you mean?" I asked, actually curious. As far as I can remember, I've been living the dream my whole life. Of course, my perspective on the matter may be slightly biased: I haven't, after all, known a life outside of fancy Galas and expensive penthouses.

"Well... I'm famous, sure. But I don't like it. I mean, I'm not good at it, you know? Everywhere I go, paparazzi follows. Every interview I endure, I'm constantly afraid of messing up and saying something wrong. Every movie I sign onto, I'm miserable. The onylthing keeping me acting is my love for the actual acting. Not the stuff that comes with it." He shook his head, furrowing his brow. I felt bad for him, in a way: I know what misery is. At least, my misery consists of loneliness and constant attention.

"I think I can relate," I murmured softly. It was only now that I realized how close we were: I turned slightly, sitting foward in my chair; as we were both turned toward one another, leaning in ever so slightly. That's a bit embarrassing.

"How?" He asked, a hint of desparation in his voice. I know how desperate I am to find someone who could relate to my life; I can't imagine how badly he wanted someone to relate to. So, I swallowed before I confessed my true feelings to a complete famous stranger.

"Well, my dad is Charles Swan," A side glance toward him showed me he knew exactly who Charles Swan was, "I'm his daughter, Bella Swan. I'm nothing famous, but I do know what it's like to be miserable. Lonely." I shrugged it off, knowing that it was probably nothing compared to what Jacob had to live through everyday. He probably thought I was a huge drama queen now... which I am, but whatever.

"I'm all alone. The only person I've had throughout my whole life is my agent. And my publicist." He was lonely too. Somehow, I think I knew that from the moment I saw him. It was there, lingering in his eyes as he crossed the room to sit next to me that first time. It shined, blending in with his dark brown--almost black--eyes. It was there all along.

"You're lonely?" I asked to clarify. Obviously, he was; he just said it out of context. Yet, I still had the need to hear him say the words. I watched as he internally battled with himself, clearly struggling to tell me, with intent eyes.

Quietly, nothing more than a whisper, I strained my ears to hear his response-- "Yeah. I am lonely."

To say I was shocked would be an understatement.

He just confessed something huge to me; I could easily run away and report that to the media, effectively making his life much, much harder. But I knew I wouldn't do that to him, for I am in the same boat: We're both equally lonely.

We sat there, silent, for a few minutes. He was still turned toward me, and I still sat rigid and forward in my chair: my star-struck nerves still acting up like a live wire. I gulped down a few shallow, shaky breaths before Jacob started to say something again.

"Bella! Time to go," Victoria suddenly waltzed into the room, walking right by me and Jacob, and out the door. Well. She's just so _polite _today.

"Uh... I'll see you later," I said to Jacob awkwardly before pushing myself out of the chair and fast-walking after Victoria. I pushed throught the trailer door and dashed down the steps before I continued walking quickly--almost jogging--behind her until we reached the metal fence surrounding the set. She turned to me, smiling.

"You got yourself a tutor. It's all arranged. You will go to the set on weekdays from noon to three. No complaints, no playing hookie, and trying your best, right?"

"Right," I replied automatically. She grinned, and chucked me teasingly under the chin.

"Good. Now, come with me. We're going back to the hotel."

"Uh... why the rush?" I asked, falling into step behind her as she strutted down the sidewalk. Quickly, I might add.

"Because someone tipped off to the media that you are now in Seattle. The faster we get to the hotel, the less pictures of you in the magazines looking like a jet-lagged hyena."

"Huh?" Where did she get the jet-lagged hyena from? I don't look like a hyena. God, that's absurd. Vic was either on heavy drugs or drank one too many cups of coffee this morning. I vote for the latter. I looked at her from the corner of my eye as we strode down the sidewalk. She rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. She's been sighing a lot today I noticed. She looked at me for a quarter of a second before looking back to the sidewalk.

"Just keep up. Quickly."

* * *

**Swanson Hotel  
8:00 PM**

I emerged from the bedroom, strutting across the room in my Victoria-perfected sexy-walk. Victoria, who was sitting on the couch in the living room, whooped and clapped. She even wofl-whistled.

Grinning, I spun around and held my hands up above my head for dramatic effect. My outifit was... nothing short of slutty. I looked like a hooker, in my opinion. Not in Victoria's. She said I looked 'hot' and 'sexy'. I don't believe that, but after time, you learn that there was no contradicting Victoria.

"Damn, you are going to rock that stage tonight, Bella," Victoria said, shaking her head in debelief. I laughed, and bit my lip insecurely.

"You still think I should sing?" I was convinced I was on okay singer, but noting amazing. I really only started singing with Peyton, and with my connections, we recorded her song together. We never released it publicly: we listened to it for our own personal enjoyment. The best part, was that both of us didn't need that much mixing on the track on the singing front. We were naturally good. Well, Peyton was. I still had my self-doubts, like every other teenager.

"Yes," Vic said sternly, rising from her spot on the couch, "You love singing. I saw your face when you and Peyton recorded it. You're singing tonight."

She grinned broadly at me as I headed for the door. I used to think I was messed up or broken: I never got stage fright like everyone else I'd met. Probably because I'm not singing for them; I sing for me. It's like I'm alone, and no one else is in the room. Well, when I'm singing a melody or softly. Songs that I sing, like I will tonight, I sing to the roaring, partying crowd. Now, _that's _what I call fun.

On my way out the door, I caught sight of myself in the mirror hanging on the wall in the foyer. I continued walking on, though, not wanting to over-do my look. My hair was in a crazy mess: my natural hair color is dark brown. I dyed my whole head a burgundy, almost auburn color. The tips were a cold, faded black and separated into long, natural loose curls. My loose short sleeved gray off-the shoulder shirt matched my ripped jeans perfectly. My make-up was thick and unnatural, sexy and in some opinions, slutty.

Perfect.

Victoria followed me out the door of my Penthouse and into the elevator. I had an hour to kill. Well, not really: the ball room transformed into a dance club at 8 PM. Some solo singers perform, and then the bands jump on stage soon after. Then, the more experienced people sing. The best part?

Everyone writes their own songs. This is no tribute.

The elevator sounded a faint 'ding' as the metal doors opened slowly, like a curtain to an audience, to reveal the lobby. The packed lobby. There was probably a couple hundred people here. This--to me, at least--was no surprise. Every Swanson hotel I'd been to had an 'Open Mic Night': every weekday night, the ballroom was changed into a modern dance club-scene by the staff. Anyone could come, though they had to pay a small fee for admission. Anyone could get up on stage and sing, but they had to be booked at least one night in advance.

That's what I have Victoria for.

She, apparently, had booked my performance yesterday. I wouldn't know, as she was always on the phone talking to somebody else, but whatever. According to her, she booked me as the main performance: three songs. Three of the songs that _I _wrote.

I've written many in the past year that I'd been in Arizona, with Peyton; she was the one that brought out my inner singer. Without her, I wouldn't be down here tonight.

_You're here now, _I told myself firmly, _don't think. Just sing._

Victoria, in the time I'd been rehashing my singing history, had scampered off to get my guitar for me, probably. I weaved through the crowd of smiling, excited people, pushing gently at times to get through. The crowd ranged from late teens to early twenties, I noted. No one older, no one younger.

I finally made it to the large, extravagant entrance to the ballroom/dance club. Just because the hotel itself wasn't that great in business, doesn't mean the events aren't popular. They are: the popular event?

Open Mic Night, of course.

"Bella Swan?" I heard someone mutter under their breath. A girl. A very, _very _amazed girl. I knew what she was thinking without having to read her thoughts: why is _the _Bella Swan in Seattle? Shouldn't she be someone more fabulous, like Florida or California?

The answer to that, sadly, is no. I shouldn't. Why? Because I've already lived a year of my life in both places. I'm not allowed to go back, at least until I'm eighteen.

"Bella Swan," I murmured to the bouncer quietly. The large, built man peered down at me, and immediately recognized me. He nodded, unhooking the velvet rope and letting me pass before hooking it back across the entrance, blocking everyone else out until they paid the small admission fee. I didn't have to pay the fee because... well... let's just say that it's one of the up-sides to having your father own the hotel.

"'Sup Seattle!?" The DJ yelled into the microphone. The crowd, which was already jumping to some music and packed pretty tight, began hooting and hollering in response. I navigated my way to the side-stage and climbed up. I pulled back the curtain and walked through, watching the wide-open space be cluttered with bands and singers warming up. I smiled.

This is how I like it.

"Alright!" The DJ drawled, "ARE. YOU. READY..." The crowd screamed. My ears felt as if they were bleeding already. I grinned. "Our first band is a one person dude with his acoustic guitar. Give it up, for CLAY HARPER!" The crowd, I realized as who I presumed to be Clay Harper walked out onto the exceptionally lit stage, was very enthusiastic and supportive tonight. A good thing, really: the people who really suck would still get some sort of praise.

"Ow!" I looked over to the direction that the exclaim came from, and watched as a tall, muscular... building-with-legs rubbed the back of his head gently while pouting toward a remarkably beautiful girl. The girl just shook her head and rolled her eyes, obviously used to this reaction. My eyes drifted to the people behind them: a tiny girl with spiky black hair was tuning an electric guitar. She wore large fishnet leggings with plain black pumps. her skirt was leather and reached mid-thigh. Her shirt was plain black with sequins on the front torso: material attached to her shoulders fell down her front, looking like a scarf. her lips were pitch black, her eyes outlined with heavy black eyeliner.

I take it she likes black?

But it wasn't only her: beside her was the boy and girl that I'd first spotted, and they were both outfitted in black leather and make-up. Odd. Maybe that was their band's thing? Black and emo? I looked past the porcupine, model and body-builder and saw the most attractive emo person I've ever seen.

His hair was unruly, to say the least. I'm pretty sure he was wearing eyeliner as well. He bent over slightly, turning a knob on his large amp. The action caused his backmuslces to flex and shift under his skin-tight black tank top. Oh, crap. My mouth was open while I watched him: as soon as I realized this, I snapped it shut. I didn't want to drool in front of them.

His wasn't built like the Bodybuilder, but he wasn't slim like the boy--what's his name? Clay?--that was currently performing on the stage was. He was fit, not a trace of fat visible. He stood straight up and laughed at something that one of his buddies said. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a blond boy join the crew. He was also wearing black, amusingly. I looked back at the gorgeous boy, and wanted to know his name desperately. I'm sure it's hot, too. Something relevant to sex, I bet: he looks like a 'Sex'. No... 'Sex' isn't a good enough name. What would Peyton name him if she were here?

Sex _God_, probably.

Sex God it is, then.

I zoomed out of my trance on the Sex God and watched the whole group of them: the two girls and--including Blondie--three guys. They were all attractive, but the Sex God was the hottest. By far.

"You're on at nine," A voice suddenly pulled me from my observing and I looked down to see my glossy furnished acoustic guitar being shoved under my nose. I was about to open my mouth to complain about handling my guitar with care before I was interrupted--"Don't talk. What songs are you singing?"

I glared at Victoria, knowing that she knew what I was going to say. Sometimes, she could be so infuriating. Honestly. She looked up at me, acting as if nothing happened. She quirked an eyebrow, waiting for the answer to her question.

"I have to play how many? Three? Okay. Well, since this is an upbeat, fun crowd, I'm thinking Misery Business, Insatiable, and to close La La Land." Vic smiled at my choice of songs. They were all inspired by the people I ran into either on the streets or in stores when shopping in Arizona. Peyton helped me with some lines for the guitar and drums, but I wrote the lyrics myself. Writing the lyrics was easy: they came straight from the heart, honest and sometimes hostile. It felt good to sing about the motherfuckers that decided to piss me off one day.

"I'll go tell the manager," Vic murmured before swiftly leaving my side. I looked down to my left to see that Victoria had also gotten my black electric guitar and medium-sized amp. I sat down on the amp with a huff.

_Now _I had an hour to kill.

* * *

**Swanson Hotel Ballroom/Dance Club  
8:50**

The--or _mine, _I guess--warm up band was preparing to take over the stage. The warm up band, ironically, was the Emo Crew. I don't know why, but I had faith in these guys: the vibe I was getting from them was, _we're good. Don't doubt us. _And so I didn't. It was probably the way they were all relaxed and confident in what they were doing. They weren't pacing around, or sweating, or stressing in any way; unlike the solo performers that 'rocked' the stage for the past fifty minutes. Yeah--they were all pretty crappy. Some were okay on the vocals, but others clearly needed more practice.

"Okay, Seattle," The DJ called out to the round up crowd, "PLEASE WELCOME OUR WARM-UP ACT," cue the pause for dramatic effect, "CROSSFIRE!!!"

And the Emo Crew went out, guitars and drum sticks in hand. The lights, I could see perfectly from side-stage, went out except for at the back of the ballroom. People shouted encouragingly for the Emo Crew--or 'Crossfire,' I suppose--and waited patiently for them to set up and start. Through the darkness, I could see faint silhouettes scurrying around, trying to set up all the band equipment as efficiently as possible. After about a minute or two, the silhouettes disappeared. I saw the outline of four people standing, and one person in the back elevated a few feet higher than the rest while sitting down, presumably behind the drums.

The music started, beginning with a ringing throughout the amps before the drums picked up followed quickly by the rest of the band. The lights simutanesouly flashed around them and the house lights lifted, showing all the faces in the audience. I watched the band, awed by their performance already.

Model was closest to me with a microphone planted in front of her. She was near the back, though, so I assumed that she was back-up vocals. near the back of the stage, as I had assumed, was the drums: the bodybuilder pounding away on them with his drumsticks. O the other side of him, farthest from me, was Blondie: the slimmer blond guy holding a bass guitar. a few yards away from me, the tiny emo chick that resembled a pixie stood confident and tall, holding her electric guitar with pride.

Then, center stage, the Sex God stood slightly bent forward to the microphone before him, his hands working his guitar effortlessly. My mouth went slightly agape, my eyes glazing over as I watched the whole Emo Crew rock out better than anyone--excluding Peyton--I'd ever seen.

Sex God started singing--

_She is a wave and she's breaking,_

_She's a problem to solve._

_and in that circle she's making,_

_I will always revolve._

The intensity of the song picked up, the crew really launching themselves into the song. I don't think they noticed the way the crowd was going insane over their ability to play... with actual _talent._

_And on her sight, _

_these eyes depend;_

_invisible and indivisible,_

Blondie, Bodybuilder and a light touch of the girls started in the chorus--

_That fire you ignited,_

_Good, bad and undecided_

_burns when I stand beside it,_

_Your light is Ultraviolet--_

_visions so insane,_

_traveling, unraveling through my brain,_

_Cold, when I am denying it,_

_Your light is Ultraviolet..._

_Ultraviolet!_

The other band members dropped the vocals, leaving the Sex God and Blondie take over the lyrics while everyone jammed out on their instrument. The crowd, at this point, was long gone into chaos, of the good kind.

_Now is a phase, and it's changing:_

_It's rotating us all._

_Thought we're safe but we're dangling,_

_And it's too far to survive the fall._

_And this I know,_

_It will not bend;_

_invisible and indivisible,_

Some of the audience members that have wicked good memories started singing with the band as Bodybuilder and the girls joined in again for the chorus--

_That fire you ignited, _

_Good, Bad and undecided,_

_burns when I stand beside it,_

_Your light is Ultraviolet;_

_Visions so insane, _

_traveling unraveling through my brain,_

_Cold, when I am denying it;_

_your light is Ultraviolet,_

_Ultraviolet!_

_That fire you ignited,_

__

Good, Bad and undecided,

Burns when I stand beside it;

Your light is ultraviolet,

Ultraviolet

_Visions so insane,_

_Traveling, unraveling through my brain,_

_Cold when I am denying it,_

_Your light is ultraviolet,_

_Ultraviolet!_

_Your light is ultraviolet..._

_Visions so insane,_

_Traveling, unraveling through my brain,_

_Cold when I am denying it,_

_Your light is ultraviolet,_

_Ultraviolet!_

The lights went out again as the band ended the song. Where did they come from? God, they were good. Really good. the Sex God had a bit of a British accent, though it's barely noticeable. Maybe because he's been in the US a while? Great. Now I was curious.

_Curiosity killed the cat._

Whatever.

"Give it up for Crossfire!" The DJ shouted out, eliciting many, _many _screams and hollers from the audience. I've never seen a crowd this wound up after a band during one of these things.

The again, I've never seen a band this good at one of these things.

"That was 'Ultraviolet' by Crossfire, everyone! Give it up! They're playing one more before we bring out our very own BELLA SWAN!" Damn. I didn't know I was _that _popular. The crowd went fucking _ballistic. _I suppose that's a good thing, though.

The band started up again, everyone still in their same positions with the same instruments. The emo-pixie started up with the guitar, the drums picking up a steady rhythm behind her. The Sex God started singing--

_You, looked at me as you walked in the room,_

_Like the Red Sea you split me open,_

_Somehow I knew these wings were stolen,_

_All you did was save my life._

_Tried to run, but I couldn't move,_

_Well I paid for these concrete shoes,_

_But like the singer that sings the blues,_

_You saw hope in the hopeless,_

_I'm not dying--_

Bodybuilder and Blondie picked up the chorus with him--

_All you did was save my life,_

_Pulled me out of that flat line,_

_Put the heart beat back inside,_

_I'm not dying,_

_All you did was get me through,_

_I owe every breath to you,_

_Heart and soul un-pa__ralyzed, _

_All you did was save my life._

Sex God continued by himself--

_Save my life..._

_I'm, not for sale, but I've been sold;_

_The more I hear the less I know,_

_And the lies are swallowed whole,_

_in their insignificance._

_A story's been told a million times,_

_But it's different when it's your life._

_I won the lottery tonight, the lottery tonight._

_I'm not dying!_

_All you did was save my life,_

_Pulled me out of that flat line,_

_Put the heart beat back inside,_

_I'm not dying,_

_All you did was get me through,_

_I owe every breath to you,_

_Heart and soul unpa__ralyzed, _

_All you did was save my life._

_I started to come around,_

_The dogs are backing down,_

_I'm not afraid to see,_

_The devil's gone underground,_

_This tightrope's been cut down,_

_And I can finally, breathe._

_You, looked at me as you walked in the room,_

_Like the Red Sea you split me open,_

_Somehow knew these wings were stolen,_

_I'm not dying!_

_All you did was save my life,_

_Pulled me out of that flat line,_

_Put the heart beat back inside,_

_I'm not dying,_

_All you did was get me through,_

_I owe every breath to you,_

_Heart and soul unpa__ralyzed, _

_All you did was save my life._

_All you did was save my life, (Put the heartbeat back inside)_

_All you did was save my life, (Put the heart beat back inside)_

_All you did was save my life..._

The crowd went wild, everyone jumping and dancing around. The lights went out once more, and the band quickly began packing up and bringing things to the side stage, where I was.

"Ready?" Victoria shouted over the crowd. I turned to her and nodded. She handed me a small black microphone and mouthed the words, 'go get 'em'.

A minute or so later, Crossfire--AKA Emo Crew--was lounging a few yards from me on the side stage. They greedily chugged water bottles and sat on their amps, like I had earlier. The house lights went up and the crowd continued screaming like there was no tomorrow. I grinned, hearing the back up band start up for me. I looked to Victoria questioningly, wondering how they knew my song already. She smiled and shrugged sheepishly. What would I do without her?

The Emo Crew looked toward me, just as I ran out onto the stage, picking up the first line and singing with everything I had into the microphone. The stage lights flickered and danced in beat to the music and fog machines were turned on to give the stage a fuckawesome look. Peyton would've loved this. I noticed Model--the blond girl from Crossfire--still set up at background mic. I guess she was singing back-up for me tonight? Smiling and loving my life, I danced out onto the stage and looked out to the large, jumping crowd and sang to them.

_I'm in the business of misery, let's take it from the top,_

_She's got a body like an hourglass, it's ticking like a clock._

_It's a matter of time before we all run out,_

_When I thought he was mine, _

_She caught him by the mouth._

I chanced a glance at the side stage, where every member of Crossfire sans Model was watching me in awe. I don't think they've heard anyone with talent sing, either. I smiled to myself and started working the stage, making sure to lean over and work the audience as well.

_I waited eight whole months, she probably set him free,_

_I told him I can't lie, he was the only one for me._

_Two weeks, we had caught on fire,_

_She's got it out for me, but I wear the biggest smile._

Model and the male guitarist for the back-up band started singing into the microphone with me then, and I let go of all control to sing the chorus.

_Whoa, well I never meant to brag,_

_but I got him where I wanted him now,_

_Whoa, it was never my intention to brag,_

_To steal him all away from you now._

_But God, doe it feel so good,_

_Cause I got him where I wanted him now,_

_And if you could then you know you would,_

_Cause God it just feels so..._

_It just feels so good._

I looked over to Crossfire, and saw the emo-pixie smiling and looking at me while leaning over and murmuring something to the Sex God.

_Seconds chances they don't ever matter people never change,_

_Once a whore, you're nothing more I'm sorry that'll never change,_

_And about forgiveness, we're both supposed to have exchanged,_

_I'm sorry honey, but I passed out now look this way,_

_Well there's a million other girls who do it just like you,_

_Looking as innocent as possible to get to who?_

_They wanted what they want, it's easy if you do it right,_

_Well I refuse, I refuse, I refuse!_

I saw Victoria on the side lines, smiling at me in a maternal way. I winked at her as the chorus started up again.

_Whoa, well I never meant to brag,_

_but I got him where I wanted him now,_

_Whoa, it was never my intention to brag,_

_To steal him all away from you now._

_But God, does it feel so good,_

_Cause I got him where I wanted him right now,_

_And if you could then you know you would,_

_Cause God it just feels so..._

I dragged out the last note, raising my voice and once again giving it my all.

_It just feels so good._

_I watched his wildest dreams come true,_

_Not one of them, involving you,_

_Just watch my wildest dreams come true,_

_Not one of them, involving!_

The band started playing without vocals as I walked the front side of the stage, slapping 'fans' hands as I strutted along banging my head to the beat. I grinned as I started singing again--

_Whoa, well I never meant to brag, _

_but I got him where I wanted him now!_

_Whoa, well I never meant to brag,_

_but I got him where I wanted him now,_

_Whoa, it was never my intention to brag,_

_To steal him all away from you now._

_But God, does it feel so good,_

_Cause I got him where I wanted him now,_

_And if you could then you know you would,_

_Cause God it just feels so..._

_It just feels so good._

The song ended with an eruption of more screams, applause and good shouts from the crowd. I grinned as the lights went out. One song down, one to go.

I dashed off the stage, gratefully accepting the cold water bottle Victoria held out for me.

"You okay?" She said loudly into my ear over the crowd. I smiled and nodded my head enthusiastically. She laughed and took the water bottle back. "Next song is Insatiable. Knock 'em out, kiddo." I took a deep breath, the adrenaline and excitement running fast and furious through my veins. I looked out into the audience as the stage crew set everything up for the next song. The DJ announced an intermission of sorts while they replaced the instruments with mine: connecting the wires, placing things around, etc.

The house lights went up for the five minute intermission while the curtains closed. The lights for the stage went on to make it easier for the crew members to do their jobs. Now that I had time to pause, my nerves started bubbling to the surface, like a kettle warming quickly, but not enough to over rule my wants--no_, _needs--to sing for these people. This is one of the best crowds I've ever had in my whole singing career.

I inhaled slowly through my nose, savoring the oxygen in my lungs before exhaling slowly through my mouth. My erratic heart rate slowed partially, the exhilaration of performing keeping me on a high; the euphoria of performing to a rowdy crowd keeping me sane. It is, for me at least, a drug. It's my personal brand of Heroin.

"Excuse me?"

I turned toward the high-pitched, happy voice, and was greeted by the emo pixie from Crossfire. Oh shit. Did she notice me staring or something? Is she going to rub her emo-ness off on me? Ah. Crap.

"I'm Alice Brandon," she held her hand out, grinning to me. Her voice was raised slightly for me to hear over the crowd, which was still quite loud: some people chatting with one another, others laughing and having a good time, but some were still screaming for more music. I smiled at the thought. "You're Bella Swan, right?"

"Uh..." Normally, that would be super creepy that a complete stranger from another place knows my name, but first, the DJ announced my name to everyone before I came on. Second, I've been in some magazines and newspapers because I'm the heiress to a hotel chain that I don't want. Also, I've been referred to as, 'the next Paris Hilton'. The first time I heard that, I wanted to kill something. I am _not _like Paris Hilton. In fact, the moment I turn eighteen, I'm gone. I don't want to own a hotel chain, and I sure as shit don't want to live in one the rest of my life. "Yeah. Nice to meet you."

I shook her hand--even her hand was tiny!--and smiled genuinely at her. I could feel my exultation leaking out of my pores, seeping into anyone and everyone around me. Even Alice the Emo Pixie.

"Al, what're you doing?" Oh, God. Someone is watching over me.

I felt my legs melt once again, but I managed to keep myself up by leaning on an amp.

Alice the Emo Pixie smiled at me before turning to her band mate. I didn't register anything that Alice said as she introduced us, and I reached out to shake his hand numbly.

"Nice to meet you, Bella. You were awesome, by the way." he grinned crookedly while saying over the noise. I smiled back like an idiot.

The Sex God has landed.

* * *

**A/N: **Questions or comments? ask via PM or e-mail.

Listen to the songs, view the photos and view the outfits used in this chapter on my profile. Forget who the Sex God or anyone else is? Definitions also on my profile.

Thanks for reading,

- Joy


	3. Acting on Impulse

**A/N: **Dedicated to Elizabeth Mason, ElectricTouch & Rock-Anne26.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any aspect of the _Twilight _Saga; all inclusive material copyright to Stephenie Meyer. Songs featured in chapter, such as: _Insatiable _by Elise Estrada and _La La Land _by Demi Lovato are copyright of their respective owners; in no way do I own those songs nor do I make that claim.

* * *

**Chapter 3: **Acting on Impulse

**

* * *

****Thursday, May 21st  
Swanson Hotel Ballroom/Dance Club  
9:07 PM**

"Time to go, Bells!" Victoria suddenly shouted from across the side stage. Nodding to her quickly, I turned back to Alice and the Sex God. I smiled apologetically before dashing out onto the stage, which was still hidden from the audience by the curtains. Breathing deeply, calming my jittery nerves, I looked around. Stage crew members were flitting around, setting equipment and instruments up efficiently. A tiny girl passed by me, murmuring something into a head-set walkie-talkie. The back of her bright white shirt had a bold, capitalized word in black--

**'STAFF'**

Slowly, I trudged over to the microphone stand. My nerves were boiling inside of me, gaining strength and growing larger like hot water in a kettle. The last thing I needed tonight was to psyche myself out before I even performed.

_Don't think, _I reminded myself, _just sing._

A crew member walked up to me, and while keeping his head down and focused on his job, shoved a microphone in my hand. He walked away quickly, and I placed the wireless microphone in the mic stand. I heard the loud screaming and talking, laughing and shouting from the other side of the curtain. The noise was so loud, a faint hum sounded in the background of my ear. That's going to be annoying in the morning.

Though I didn't have long to muse over my thoughts. Before I had a chance to register it, crew members were yelling along with the screaming fans and the lights went out. The stage lights illuminated me, momentarily blinding me from things and people around me; all I could see, for about a minute, was the microphone and stand. Then the curtain pulled back. The music started, Model and Emo-Pixie singing back-up for me.

I released my inhibitions and squeezed the mic with my right hand while I worked the crowd and reached out to them with my left. My cue came, and without a second thought, my lips parted and my voice picked up.

_There's more to me than meets the eye so come and look inside, go deep._

_'Cause beauty's more than skin deep_

_Don't need to know the kinda guy who's quick to drop the fly, wham-bam,_

_That ain't who I am._

_Don't let-a-let my bootie-beauty, be-the-be the only reason you wanna ride,_

_Don't let-a-let my hottie-body, jack the fact that a got a lotta more in mind,_

I looked over to the Emo Crew. The first sight that caught my eye was the body builder, laughing his ass off. Huh. He must have gotten the idea that this song was inspired by someone hitting on me. About sex. I grinned and winked at him. That only made him laugh harder. Though he was laughing at my song, I knew it wasn't malicious. He gave me a thumbs up before I started singing the chorus.

_If it's just the physical,_

_It will be sensational._

_But if you really got into me,_

_You know you'd be insatiable._

Model and Emo Pixie were doing amazing as background singers. They nailed every note perfectly. I saw the outline of heads in the audience as they jumped up and down, reaching out to me like I was really famous. I'm not. I grinned, despite my thoughts; why question something so good? Enjoy it while it lasts.

_There's more to me than meets the eye candy,_

_and the part that you can't see, it's so sweet,_

_'cause beauty's more than skin deep._

_if you took the time to get to know the real me,_

_You'd know,_

_I'm on another level._

Many clammy, tiny and large hands reached out from the crowd to brush mine as I ripped the mic from the stand and approached the audience. My excitement and love for performing overruled my insecurities. It's times like these that I feel truly alive.

_Don't let-a-let my booty-beauty, be-the-be the only reason you wanna ride,_

_Don't let-a-let my hottie-body jack the fact that I gotta lotta more in mind,_

_If it's just the physical,_

_It will be sensational._

_but if you really got into me,_

_You know you'd be insatiable._

_Insatiable,_

_Insatiable,_

_Insatiable,_

_More and more and more and more._

_You ain't seen nothin yet,_

_You don't know what you get 'till you get,_

_You ain't seen nothin yet,_

_You don't know what you get 'till you get._

_If it's just the physical,_

_It will be sensational._

_But if you really got into me, you know you'd be insatiable._

The crowd cheered as the song came to an end. The lights stayed shining bright as the band changed songs. I turned around and spotted a water bottle that had my name written across it resting on the drum's stage; the part of the stage that was elevated a few feet for the drums and drummer to make the set look more professional. I walked over to it, hyper-aware of the hundreds of people in the crowd that was still hooting and hollering for me.

I turned off my mic and set it down on the drummer's elevated stage, next to the other water bottles. After unscrewing the cap on the water bottle and chugging half of it greedily, I twisted the cap back on it and picked up the mic. What song was next? La La Land. Right.

Hurriedly, I turned the mic back on and turned to the crowd. Smiling at the obvious satisfaction vibe from the crowd, I spoke energetically and clearly into the mic.

"Hey Seattle!" There truly was a lot of people here. The response from the crowd was loud, but not as loud as some other hotels I'd been to. "Alright, I've got one more song for you guys. You ready!?" Again, the response was nothing short of roaring.

The music started up, and I danced around the stage once again. I gave this number the rest of my energy, mentally planning my crash in the penthouse afterwards. Doing this every night is exhausting.

_I am, confident but I still, have my moments_

_Baby, that's just me._

Pausing at the corner of the stage to smack some of the outstretched hands, I looked into the eye of one _really _hot guy and sang to him the next line--

_I'm not, A supermodel I still, eat McDonald's_

_Baby, that's just me._

Blowing a kiss to the really hot guy, I retreated back to center stage. The house lights flickered, showing the many faces of partying audience members. Grinning, I danced in place to the bridge and chorus.

_Well, some may say I need to be afraid,_

_Of losing everything, because of where I_

_Had my start and where I made my name,_

_Well, everything's the same in the La La Land machine,_

_Machine, machine._

I walked over to the lead guitarist and thumped my leg along with him as he played like a rocker; his hair going everywhere and him leaning back while he jammed. He was lost in his guitar. I could relate.

_Who said, I can't where my Converse, with my dress?_

_Well Baby, that's just me._

_Who said, I can't be single and have to, go out and mingle?_

_Baby, that's not me, no no._

Glancing over at side stage, I connected eyes with the three guys. Hot damn--they really were something to melt over. Shaking my head briskly, I looked back at the crowd. _Don't lose focus, Swan!_

_Well, some may say I need to be afraid,_

_Of losing everything, because of where I_

_had my start and where I made my name_

_Well, everything's the same, in the La La Land--_

My voice lowered for the next line, my dancing and erratic stage presence downing a bit for added effect.

_Tell me do you feel the way I feel?_

_'Cause nothing else is real, In the La La Land appeal--_

My voice raised higher and stronger as I nailed another high, hard note perfectly.

_Well, some may say I need to be afraid,_

_Of losing everything, because of where I_

_Had my start and where I made my name,_

_Well everything's the same in the La La Land machine,_

_Well, I'm not gonna change, in the la la land machine,_

_I will stay the same in the la la land,_

_mahine, machine, machine._

_I won't change anything in my life,_

_I'm staying myself tonight!_

I shoved the mic into the mic stand on the last note as the music continued going, building rapidly to the climax of the song. As I walked off the stage without another look at the pumped audience, the last note rang through the speakers. The house lights immediately blacked out. I got the side stage, which was lit dimly by safety lights, and searched for Victoria. And the Emo Crew, though I would never actually admit that. I spotted Victoria.

They were gone. The Emo Crew was no where in sight.

The only thing left to be heard, as I walked through the darkness toward the exit, was the applauding, screaming fans still amazed by the performance in the ballroom.

I knew Victoria was following me, but I didn't care. I found a metal door near the side and pushed it open, entering the warm, dark night--breathing heavily and clearing my head of all thoughts.

And sadly--yet as usual--I walked on alone.

* * *

**Friday, May 22nd  
_Death and Darkness _Set  
Noon**

I knocked tentatively on the small white door, balancing on one of the white metal steps and bracing myself for the torture that most people call, 'school'.

Moments later, the door flung toward me quickly. I narrowly dodged it, leaning onto the other side of the tiny steps. I looked up to see Jacob standing there with a... happy look on his face. This kid's got problems, I swear it. I mean, who in their right mind actually _enjoys _school? Learning things in general, I'm sure some people enjoy, but... c'mon! This is _school. _Happiness in school is absurd.

"I think you're the only kid in the universe that enjoys school," I muttered as I bounced up the rest of the steps to the trailer. Ignoring the waiting room area I opened the door on the wall dividing the trailer into two different rooms and walked straight into the working/office area. Jamie was seated at the round table in the corner opposite of two chairs. One for me and one for Jake. Fine.

"You are in such a... _joyful_ mood this afternoon," Jacob teased sarcastically, sliding into the seat next to me. Jamie laid textbooks out in front of us.

"Stop chatting. This is not _'Flirting 101'_. This is Calculus. Focus." Jamie ordered, smirking. Blushing a bit at Jamie's comment, I made sure to actually focus on the... Calc? Why in God's name would I have to learn Calculus? This is absurd. Absolutely absurd.

"Uh... Jamie? Why are we learning this? It's not we're going to use it in our lives," because we're rich and talented. Jacob's got an acting career set in stone. I could easily get a recording contract for singing if need be. We didn't really need math anymore, honestly. Something in the arts or drama, maybe, but not Calc.

"Victoria requested it. You'll have to take it up with her," He shrugged ingenuously. I sighed. "And as far as Jake learning this stuff... well, you're manager just said whatever is most convenient for me. So, because Bella has to learn it, it's convenient for me to teach one subject at the same time. Sorry Jake."

"No harm done," Jake smiled at him. Why is he so_ nice_?

"Alright, moving onto the math..." Jamie sighed, then composed his face and smiled. He's nice, too. Was I the only one opposed to learning and/or school these days?

* * *

**_Death and Darkness _Set  
3:00 PM**

"Alright. See you on Monday, guys," Jamie said. I closed my book and held it to my chest. He'd given us a worksheet, and I was too busy ogling at Jake to complete it. So, lucky me, I get to finish it on the weekend. A part of me, the bratty part, said, '_Fuck this!' _But the rest of me, the obedient sucker, knew I had to do it. Just to appease everyone else and not give anyone a hard time, really.

Jacob and I stepped out of the trailer, and I didn't want to leave. I wanted to spend more time with him. Reluctantly, I turned and started trudging toward the gates. The only thing that halted my movements was the sound of a husky voice calling out my name.

"Yeah?" I turned around slowly, almost afraid of what I might find. Which, in all honesty, was absurd. What was he going to do? Ridicule me? Yeah. I doubt it. He's too _nice._

"Do you..." He furrowed his brow, like he was trying to figure out how to word things properly. After a moment, his eyes reconnected with mine as he inhaled sharply, "Do you wanna hang with me here? It would be nice to be with someone... normal, for a change."

I think he just made my day.

Internally, I was jumping for joy and screaming in ecstasy. He wanted me to stay! Yes! But, because I would look like a loon if I actually did that, I replied in a cool, calm and collected manner.

"Yeah, sure. Sounds fun."

He smiled at me as I jogged over to him. Briefly, I wondered what kind of people they hired for movies and such; if I'm the only normal person Jake knows at the moment, that's honestly a little unnerving. I definitely don't want to meet these so called 'crew members' and fellow 'co-stars'. They sound more than slightly insane.

As I smiled up at Jake, I was sure my inner victory dance was seeping out and surfacing. I pushed it back as I watched Jake's eyes sparkle with an emotion more intimate than just hanging around with a friend. I brushed those thoughts off, too; too soon. Way too soon for those kinds of feelings to even be _considered_.

He held his arm out like gentlemen do in the old romance movies, and even bowed slightly. Giggling like a schoolgirl on drugs, I hooked my arm through his, hugging my book against my chest with my left arm. He walked me over to a large building with a sign that said '_Set 7' _on it. He led me into the building.

We sneaked behind everyone else, as a scene was being currently filmed. That's when I saw her; Anna Leigh Harper. The most gorgeous, Supreme Bitch on planet Earth. Her blond hair was pin straight; her make-up was running down her face. Quite frankly, she looked like a drowned rat. No offense to her, or anything. But, she began talking and sobbing at the same time, her voice cackling like static. _That's _attractive. Well, actually--even looking like a drowned rat, Anna looked pretty. Not drop-dead gorgeous, or like the blond girl from Crossfire, but still very pretty.

Someone looked over to Jake and me, and I had an odd feeling in my gut that we weren't supposed to be here. I nudged Jake, and he saw this, too; he confirmed my suspicions by pushing me out of the building quickly and as quietly as possible. Quite roughly, too, though I didn't mind. The door closed behind us, but I could still hear footsteps approaching on the other side of the door.

"Oh, shit!" I whisper-yelled to Jacob, who stared at me wide-eyed for a moment before grabbing my hand and taking off in a random direction. I started laughing hysterically, feeling like a rebel or a delinquent of some kind. Feeling exhilaration pumping steadily through me, it was almost as good as when I'm on stage in front of hundreds of people.

We stopped a minute later behind a different set. Crew members and security guards gave us the weirdest looks. That only fueled my laughter. I stumbled and continued laughing. What I was laughing at exactly was lost on me. When we rounded the corner of the set building, he backed up against it and pulled me against him, so that my back was flush against his chest. He cupped his hand over my mouth, trying in vain to stifle my giggles. I pushed my hand against his over my mouth to quiet myself down. His hand was really, really warm. Not clammy like most people's, but soft and warm. And big. My hand was probably half his.

"Shh," Jake soothed in my ear, his hot breath brushing past my neck. I shivered at the close proximity. I looked up and noticed how close we were to the fence that surrounded the area. My heart stopped at, not the fence, but what--or rather, _who_--was standing behind it.

The cameras immediately started clicking off, the paparazzi thriving off of Jake and I. Oh crap. Opening my mouth to try and alert Jake of it, I found I was unable due to our hands clapped over my mouth. I removed my hand and resorted to elbowing Jacob in the ribs to get his attention. I did it gently, to ensure that he didn't get hurt, and he seemed to get the point. He removed his hand from my mouth, convinced that we weren't being followed anymore.

Well, that and it looks pretty odd seeing two celebrities in that position. Behind me, Jake cleared his throat awkwardly. He stepped in front of me and intertwined our hands together. I looked up at him questioningly, but he was already dragging me over to the fence. Toward the paparazzi. Victoria was going to have my head, for sure.

"Jacob! Is it true that you're dating Isabella?" A women, mid thirties, called out. She pushed her mic toward the fence, barely grazing it as she waited for Jake's response.

He looked down to me and asked with his eyes if it was okay for him to answer how he wanted to. I'm pretty sure he was about to say 'yes'. I didn't have a problem with it, that is until I remembered Sex God and the Emo Crew. Maybe I didn't want the Sex God to think that I wasn't single.

Fuck it.

I nodded slightly, so that only Jake could see it. He smiled and changed his demeanor within a blink of an eye. He looked into my eyes adoringly, lovingly. Then he turned to the interviewer--

"Yes. We are."

A series of flashes flicked off more rapidly than before. I was used to it; I'd been to a few red carpets events and Galas. In fact, that's what I normally do. Peyton had gone with me to a few, making her kind of famous by association. But she didn't enjoy the attention. We had fun together, and pretty much ignored the cameras.

"Bella! Jacob! Can we have an interview?" A man called out, relatively calm. I sighed. Jake nodded. We walked to the nearest gates to the fence, the cameras following our every step. We walked off set property, and Jacob realized that there was now no border between us and the raging media. He wrapped an arm protectively around my waist, and I basked in the feeling of security that came with the movement.

"Alright. First of all, hi guys. Bear with me, this is my first interview." I smiled at the interviewer's confession, happy to see how down-to-earth he was. Most interviewers were like that, but it's nice all the same. "So, for the record, you two are dating, correct?"

"Yes," Jake and I answered in unison.

The intervewier smiled. He kind of reminded me of Elvis, actually; the way his facial features were set and the curve of his lips and eyes was scarily similar. "Okay. Now, it's rumored that you, Bella, are cast in _Death and Darkness. _Is this true?"

I decided to answer Elvis with a complete sentence. This was an important answer. "No, I'm not. I'm actually just in town for a while and that gives Jake and I time to spend together more." I smiled at Jacob, and he grinned broadly at me in response.

"Nice. So, when did you two meet?" Elvis asked, looking truly curious. Crud. We only met... _yesterday. _Crap, crap and _merde._

"A few months back. Same situation; we met on one of my sets that she was just visiting. We became friends, then things kind of..." He looked down into my eyes, furrowing his eyebrow again. He was trying to word this properly. I could understand the importance of this statement, too. Victoria was so going to have my head about this.

Glancing briefly at Elvis, I made a snap decision to answer this for Jake, "Clicked. We've been pretty close ever since." I smiled, trying to be convincing without much effort. Jake was attractive, and I would love for our little story to be true. Yet, I know it will never be; we're from different worlds. Yes, they may be similar because of the paparazzi and constant attention, but that's all. Two different worlds--granted, similar--are not the same. They never were, and never will be.

Disappointment and grief washed over me like a breaking wave, and I just wanted to crawl under a hole and die. I felt the heat creep up my neck and wash over my cheeks and nose, my uncontrollable blush taking over form the over-whelming emotions. I needed to get out of here. Now.

"Uh..." _Act like his girlfriend! You're still on camera, smart ass! _"Jake, I gotta go," I murmured, trying to act dejected and over-wrought. Though, it wasn't that much of a challenge, as I actually _was _dejected and over-wrought. I felt sad. Just completely and alarmingly sad. I didn't want to be anywhere at the moment; for the first time in a very, _very _long time, I found myself wanting to be alone in my penthouse.

Jacob nodded, genuine concern crossing his face for a moment, but in blinking time was gone. He composed his face, smiling for the camera and apologizing to the interviewer for the abrupt ending to the interview. Elvis smiled and thanked us, before turning and walking away briskly. The paparazzi were gone; no doubt watching us remotely now. I didn't wait for Jake's next move; I merely began walking down the sidewalk, purposely not cutting through the set to get to the hotel faster. I wanted to get away, but not badly enough to cut through a place that was swarmed with more media.

"Bella!" Jacob called after me. I heard his heavy steps on the cement as he jogged to catch up with me, "Jeez, what's going on? One second you're fine and the next you're--"

"Gone?" I suggested. He just looked at me in confusion. I sighed and began to explain myself, "I don't do good with paparazzi, that's all," _and I'm incredibly sad that you'll never be interested in me as I am in you. _I wanted to say that so badly, just to get it out there with hopes of him contradicting me and assuring me that he _does _like me that way. I knew it would never happen, though. What's the point in putting your heart on he line when you know it's going to get broken anyways? I felt my cheeks lose the warmth momentarily, before the rush of my emotions created a strange reaction from my body; I began sweating from the small of my back and the nape of my neck. In a futile attempt of cooling off, I threw my hair up into a lazy, uncomfortable elastic. Why was I acting this way? In the end, it's just a boy. Nothing special. Right?

No. Not right. Possibly because we have more in common than anyone I'd met in my entire life. That, and I have a crush on him.

I am so in over my head.

Shaking my head as if to clear my jumbled, erratic thoughts, I continued down the sidewalk. Not looking back once, I rounded the corner and headed down the street of my hotel. Traffic was streaming consistently, pedestrians yapping away on phones walking the opposite direction weaving past me with grace and relaxation. I folded my arms over my chest and held them tight, as if securing my shield and holding myself together. It's not as if I planned on going back to my room and blubbering like a dramatic fool, but more so that I planned on going to my penthouse--a place of peace and serenity; a place that I find myself calling 'home' and knowing that it's the one place in this world that I am ensured to be alone.

I needed to be alone.

I needed to block out the media, Jacob, Victoria, Peyton, the Emo Crew--everything. Hell, even James Bond the Bellhop is someone I needed to block out. I needed time to regroup, accept my new situation and move on. And by 'situation,' I mean 'living arrangment'.

As I approached the hotel, I registered the faint thumping sound a few yards behind me. He was following me? Still, I kept my eyes forward and focused on the destination I was aiming for: my peace and serenity. I yanked open the front entrance doors for the hotel and walked quickly over to the elevators. When I got there, I pressed the up arrow repeatedly--dramatically. I knew that pressing it would not make it come any faster, but I had that feeling in my gut; the feeling where your goal--or in my case, destination--is so close you can almost feel it, and you want nothing more than to get to it as fast as you possibly can.

That's when I felt the erotically warm breeze hitting my neck. I breathed deeply, my chest rising and falling slowly and obviously. I closed my eyes momentarily, part of me wanting to turn around and apologize for my strange behavior, and the rest of me wanting to flee to my penthouse.

I chose the latter. Turning away from the elevator and avoiding Jake's questioning gaze, I practically ran toward the stairs. _Seriously, Bella? You're going to take the stairs up to the TWENTY-FIFTH FLOOR? _I ignored my internal doubts and raced up the stairs, taking two at a time. After a minute or so, my legs began getting weaker, my weight feeling like it was increasing by the second. I panting and huffed.

The door at the bottom of the stairs--the lobby door, where I'd just entered--opened roughly and slammed closed. I caught a quick glimpse of copper skin and short, black cropped hair. Crap! He really wanted to know what was bothering me, didn't he? My eyes widened the size of saucers and I looked to my left--a door that signaled I was on floor three. I heard thumping on the stairs and figured I only had so much time before he caught up with me. Acting on impulse, I crept toward the door and opened it silently.

The thumping grew closer. Louder.

I slipped through the crack I'd created by opening the door for the third floor. Just as quietly, and trying to calm myself of my erratic heartbeat and over-active nerves, I shut the door and thanked God silently for making it so that you couldn't hear my exit. I leaned back against the door, right when the thumping stopped. I heard shuffling from the other side, and instantly felt guilty for running away from Jacob like that. Monday tutoring was going to be awkward, most definitely.

Jacob sighed, and it was then that I realized he was right there. On the other side of the door, probably inches from me. I struggled to control my breathing, pressing my ear to the door and listening for any sign that he'd left.

"Bella!?" He called out, and up by the sound of it. When he got no response, he called out my name again, and resigned trying to find me. He didn't know what floor I was on, thank God. I sighed in relief when I heard the exit to the stairs open and close rather roughly--on the first floor. He was leaving the hotel.

Wait--why did I want him gone? Oh, right. Because I'm an idiot. An idiot with too many insecurities than I let on.

"What're you doing?"

Practically jumping out of my skin, I yelped and turned around sharply.

"Uh... I, um... I just--" I coughed, in a state of shock. For the second time today. I scanned his appearance subtly, and the biggest shock was his hair. it was no longer black as it had been last night. It was a gorgeous, natural bronze. You can't die your hair this color; it was as if every strand was a different shade of reddish-brown. "You're hair's not black?"

That was a smart comment. Yup.

He smiled, obviously seeing my nervousness. His smile was not judgemental nor malicious in any way; it was amused, but not insultingly so. I was tempted to smile back, but pressed my lips together. I didn't want to smile. I just wanted to leave. Why is everyone trying to stop me?

He pointed to his scalp, and only then did I noticed the hard black guitar case he held in his other hand. He smiled sheepishly, "Temporary black die. Comes out in one wash. Alice's idea. Alice--my sister--is the one that introduced us last night." Allowing a tight-lipped smile to crack through my seemingly nervous and calm facade, I replied back while pointing to my hair--

"Permanent die. Normally a chocolate brown." I squinted at him, silently cursing him for keeping me this long. He chuckled and looked down at his guitar. "Are you staying here for a while? In the hotel, I mean."

"Yeah," he sighed, running his free hand through his messed hair, "I'm actually on my way to practice right now, so... I'll talk to you later, I guess?" Yes! He was leaving! Huzzah!

Instead of jumping for joy of freedom, I merely nodded and smiled, "Sure. Later."

And with that, I walked back through the stair entrance and sighed, swooning.

Trudging up the stairs, I contemplated going down to the ballroom to watch Crossfire's rehearsal.

Acting on impulse for the umpteenth time today, I began heading down the stairs.

I was going to watch Crossfire rehearse. And no one was going to stop me. Screw being alone--I like this better.

* * *

**A/N: **Thanks for reading. Chapter dedication for EM, ET & RA26 because they were the first to favorite, alert and review this story. Thanks guys.

- The second song Bella sings at Open Mic Night--the first song featured in this chapter--is _Insatiable _by Elise Estrada.

- The third song Bella sings--the second song featured in this chapter--is _La La Land _by Demi Lovato. Link to listen to both songs on my profile.

- Photos of 'Anna Leigh Harper' are on my profile & website.

- Photos of the outside of the Swanson Hotel are on my profile.

If you forgot who 'Elvis,' 'James Bond,' or 'Sex God' is, the actual character names are on my profile, along with other definitions.

Thanks for reading,

- Joy.


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